Of Wildfires and Yarrow Flowers
by justcallmebob
Summary: Hey, all! This will be my first fanfiction. It was also my first  failed  attempt at NaNoWriMo, and I decided that I might as well post it here. I am still working on it, so ratings may change. Enjoy!
1. Chapter 1

Hey, everyone! Just thought I'd put out there that there is a lot of original content in here, which does belong to me, but Merlin and Arthur and all those lovely people as portrayed by BBC... do not. Belong to me, I mean. They don't. Sadly. On to the story!

* * *

Her ears twitched slightly as the faint scream and hiss of burning bark reached her, a grimace marring her face as her flattened nose wrinkled with the smell of smoked wood enveloping the clearing. She glanced around, her eyes narrowed slightly against the offensive smoke to look to her brethren, sitting around the throne of the Horned One. All wore similar faces to hers, their expressions a mix of anger, pain, horror and helplessness, all staring in the general direction from which the screaming could still be heard. The wiry muscles of her furred legs tensed along with her bare shoulders, seeming to prepare for a flight response to the slowly approaching devastation. One of her large cloven hooves made contact with the ground, pressing lightly, but enough that the crack of the sticks and the crunch of the leaves was deafening. She cowered under the sudden gaze of her many brothers, her long ears drooping in dismay at the sudden attention, her eyes staring almost sullenly at the forest floor. Another distant scream drew their attention away from her again, their ears perked attentively as they watched the surrounding trees with growing apprehension, their eyes tinged with fear. Her muscles bunched beneath her skin again as her respiration grew unsteady, her palms pressing more gently against the ground until a weighty hand rested itself soothingly upon her shoulder. Her head swiveled around to meet the golden gaze of the being behind her, a magnificent rack of antlers adorning his furred brow. Her breathing slowed slightly as she calmed beneath his eyes until she turned back to face the approaching flames, her heart still hammering hard in her chest as the fingers on her shoulder tightened minutely.

* * *

... Okay, so it's really just a teaser, trailer type thing. But if you liked what you read here and are interested, then keep reading! :D


	2. Chapter 2

As I did state before, BBC's depiction of Merlin does not belong to me. Here's the second chapter, a bit longer than the first! And just a side note, chapter lengths might vary a great deal in this story, but I'll try to post them in bunches. _

* * *

Pale blue eyes stared morosely out from the battlements of the castle, his eyes trained on the rising trail of smoke drifting from the canopy of the tangled and bare branches of the forest, a frown set deep in his face. His fingers curled around the rough edges of the stone wall before him, the noonday sun lighting his prominent cheekbones and casting shadow upon the hollows beneath them. Pressing his lips together into a tight line, he reluctantly turned his gaze from the plume of deep grey, releasing his grip on the stone at the same time as he stalked away quickly, nearly stumbling in his haste as he descends the steep stairs. The sounds of frantic shouting quickly faded as he hurried below, his footsteps echoing eerily around the empty corridor. His heart stopped for a moment without warning before he broke into a clumsy sprint, taking the next several sets of stairs three at a time before skidding to a halt in the courtyard. He took in the sight of townspeople and nobles alike, the latter seeming rather reluctant, working together to form a chain with which to send buckets full to the brim with cool water, the steady pace with which they pass the bucket from one person to the next belying the gravity of the situation. His eyes scanned the line quickly before he scurried past the line, moving quickly through the lower town towards the edge of the forest. Following the length of the line, he moved quickly, his gaze drawn inexorably towards the flickering light in the distance, deep within the belly of the forest. The same gaze narrowed as billows of smoke assault him, a harsh cough wracking his lanky frame as he paused before continuing doggedly onwards. His voice was slightly roughened and made hoarse by the smoke, cracking embarrassingly as he called out a name.

"Arthur! Arthur, you... you great prat..." A brief bout of choking overwhelmed him before he took up the cry again. " Arthur!" He brought his threadbare sleeve up to cover his nose and mouth in a feeble attempt to curtail the inhalation of the smoke that permeated the air. His arm swung around wildly in front of him, creating trailing strands of the thick grey vapor instead of clearing it away, his eyes growing more watery by the second. His voice grew steadily weaker, the thick smog stealing it away completely within minutes. He dropped to his knees, still attempting to shield his nose and mouth from the smoke with his clothed arm, falling forward to rest on his other hand as dry coughing overcomes him, his limbs failing him as he fell face forward to rest in the detritus of the moist forest floor.


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: BBC's Merlin does not belong to me in any way, shape or form.

* * *

Her ears swiveled back and forth more agitatedly as the sounds of crackling flame and desperate shouting drew ever nearer. The screaming of the trees could be heard in almost deafening volumes, causing shudder after shudder to wrack her long frame. The hand that had been pressing down gently on her shoulder suddenly left and went back to rest on one of the twisted and gnarled branches that form the arm of the throne. No sooner was the hand removed than all the muscles tightened in her form and she sprang to her feet, hitting the ground at a run, the branches of trees seeming to reach out as though to grab her, pleading with her to save them from their inevitable death by fire. She swallowed heavily, worrying her bottom lip and breaking the skin quickly, continuing on reluctantly as she ignored the silent pleas of the forest around her. The large cloven hooves embedded themselves deeply in the earth as she headed into the thick of the smoke. An ear flicked towards a loud sound, the sound of water, the sound of hissing steam as fire is extinguished. She halted immediately, her form tense as she turned to look towards the source of the noise, minute tremors running down her body. Her eyes strained to see through the thick clouds of smog, several bodies moving and stirring the smoke as they frantically worked to extinguish the flames. Her eyes roved over the small group, running along the long line of villagers passing buckets along to the group before her gaze again returned to the group. It rested for a moment on the man who seems to be the obvious leader, garbed in a faded red shirt and dark trousers, his square jaw framed by golden hair made greasy by the smoke and heat. She stared for a few seconds, her gaze hard as she watched him bark orders through the fuzzy layer of smoke and throwing bucket after bucketful of water into the steadily decreasing wall of flames. His head started to swivel in her direction, his eyes widening as he caught sight of her for a brief moment before her legs spring into action, bounding quickly away from the group through the smoke, blackened trees and plant life lining her path.

She leapt over trees that have fallen and rotted as she made her way through the veil of smoke, unmindful of her surroundings as the haze clouded her senses, swirling around her. She continued on her way, moving skillfully through the trees without a sound. The crack that was heard next as she tripped over something unexpected was deafening, her hoof landing on something that was not soft like the earth. She threw out her hands in front of herself to break her fall, her entire front covered in a thin sheet of dirt as she pushed herself up again. She pulled her legs in towards herself, her gaze sweeping the floor to find what she had tripped over. She saw the prone figure of a young man with dark hair lying face down in the dirt, his right arm at an awkward angle. Her eyes lingered on the arm, widening slightly before darting back to watch the figure carefully. She let out a sigh of relief as his torso expanded and deflated with steady breathing. She moved closer on her knees, cautiously rolling him over. His breathing caught in his throat with a weak, throaty whimper as his arm was jostled slightly. She bit her lip gently, worrying it between her teeth for several moments. Her brow furrowed slightly before she pushed herself back onto her feet, venturing back the way she came more calmly and searching for various objects on the forest floor. She returned several minutes later with a few straight and sturdy branches and several soaked sheets of birch bark. She seated herself silently next to the young man, her eyes tracing his features for a moment as they twisted in pain and discomfort. Carefully, she lifted the limp arm and stretched it out, watching his face still with some worry evident on her own features. Her dexterous fingers moved with slight hesitation, gently coaxing the splintered bone back into a straight line, her ears flattening slightly as the man lets out a faint murmur of pain, his other fist clenching unconsciously in the thin fabric of his shirt. She kept hold of his forearm in one hand while reaching out to grasp the four sturdy looking sticks in her other hand, bringing them to lay on her lap. Moving them carefully as she aligned them up and down his forearm, a faint whisper of words escaped her lips, her black eyes glowing a vivid green.

"_Beorcholt bewinde hrísl..."_

Her voice was soft but certain as she spoke strange words of power and the sticks seemed to twist themselves around the injured forearm, locking themselves into place as they entwined themselves around each other like snakes. Taking the sheets of birch bark into her hands, she carefully wrapped them around the wooden splinting one at a time, being careful not to jostle the arm more than necessary. Once finished, she spoke again, her voice still soft as her eyes again flashed a grassy hue.

"_Ádrúwe borcian..._"

Her hand resting on the wet bark suddenly flexed and the moisture seemed to be sucked out of the bark. Without a word, she flung the excess moisture onto the surrounding ground, the droplets glistening slightly despite the lack of light. She remained silent once more as she lifted the casted arm, examining her handiwork before letting out a satisfied sigh. She lifted the young man into a sitting position before moving over to his other side, reaching down to grasp his forearm before pulling it over her neck and shoulder firmly. She reached down to wrap an arm around his slight frame, lifting him up easily despite her own seemingly fragile frame. Unconscious charge now supported, she moved forward, away from the thick realm of smokiness and towards the clearing just past the trees. She stopped a bit short of it, glancing around quickly, almost nervously, before stepping just outside of the safety of the dark forest. She knelt, quickly working to stretch out his legs before letting his back rest against the rough bark of a strong oak tree. She tenderly reached out to brush his sweaty, slightly greasy hair away from his brow before standing abruptly, turning away from the grassy knoll to head back into the forest. She paused, her thoughts conflicted across her face before she hesitatingly reached out to press her bare palm against the rough bark of the old oak tree. Her words carried the same conviction as they did when she was treating the young man's wound.

"Take care of him, Old One... _scilde gebrócod_."

The branches of the great tree shuddered and creaked in wordless acceptance of the soft command. Without another glance back, she took off back the way she came, weaving between the trees more slowly and carefully than before as she hurried back to the One she served.

* * *

For those of you wondering what the translations are, here is my list:

_Beorcholt bewinde hrísl - 'Birch wood encircle shuttle bone of the lower arm'_

_Ádrúwe borcian - 'Dry bark'_

_scilde gebrócod - 'shield the injured'_

I used the Old English/Modern English translator at ./ for these spells and any others that are used in future chapters, and tried to be as accurate as possible.


End file.
